The Moons Knight
by Jatd4ever
Summary: What were wolves, darkness, and light, what were they to the sun, to Jane? Another fic for the story game.


***I do not own jane and the dragon or its characters. Neither do I own the line borrowed from Robert Frost**

 **I re-watched the episode Knight Light, and of course a few others. I also borrowed a line from Robert Frost**.

* * *

 _Unwatered, unloved, unmoved by the world, and its air; it sat alone in the dark silence_

 _It would not die, oh how it tried, it withered day by day_

 _Then the color of creation touched upon thy branches, the hurtful thistle, bright pink, sharp thorns_

 _I was no longer alone_

 **-Gunther Breech**

* * *

"Remember the time you were afraid of the dark?"

The breeze was warm, yet the chill in his bones scared him. After the hours of searching, finding, and momentary relief, he was exhausted. In his struggle to retain his sanity, he had taken to speaking with her, hoping she was listening. "I think a part of me hoped you would cower and cling to me, but of course you would never do that Jane, you have always been above all that."

 _I longed to touch you, but you injure_

Back then, the maze test was to test their tracking skills, but being the biscuit weevil he was, he took advantage of her weakness. At the time, Gunther was fourteen, she was twelve. It was a tempestuous age for the both of them. Gunther discovered she was not so hideous as he would have liked to believe, and becoming a man meant leaving behind the innocence of childhood. Memories, they came to him like gnats, biting at his eyes. "Brilliant," he whispered. "a knight afraid of the night."

If anyone should have been afraid, it should have been him; he was one acquainted with the night. Insecure of his name and skill, he played upon others emotions. His father had taught him well, how to barter, and steal, to trick, and please. Anything which could have been used to advantage, no matter how upset she would become, he would use his trickery. What if one ignored you? Simple, make them angry, for if one truly despised you, they would not listen, but if they cared, they would stay and fight.

Any sort of attention, even if she would just look at him, then he figured he would be happy.

 _I could not resist you, believe me, I tried_.

The redhead back then had proved herself brave against the dangers of the night. Darkness, reds, and blacks, and Jane. What was there for him without her? To push away the fear, the sadness which threatened to stream down his cheeks, he continued. "Imagine it Jane, dealing with a wolf in the dark."

Another remark he had made in his weakness. Hidden from his teasing gaze, she had been even then the scorching blaze he recognized. The flaming red, the sweetness of a temper, perhaps he had always known he would become enslaved to her. Rumors, they flustered him, they embarrassed, and angered. That was four years ago, many things had changed, he had become a better man; a man who was more than a name.

 _We were mismatched_

The crunch of leaves sent the field mice to scatter, no prints could be seen of boar, of wolf, or of man. With a sky littered with stars, in his distress, what were their beauty? There were troubles ahead, a princess to be saved, and perhaps even a kiss at the end, but not yet. A kiss, the thought made him redden, was that even possible? Those were serious, at least, that is what he had heard.

Every so often, the wind played a few games of its own, rustling leaves, making him shiver, scaring him with its inaccuracy. He hoped those man eating beasts would not seek them out. Thankfully, years ago, the king had given permission to hunt them, to lessen the likelihood of an attack.

 _Moonless night, I have left the gleaming for the Sun_

Bat bladders, he was thinking of poetry at a time like this? What if man or beast were to cross his path, he would have to fight, or anything that could be done while holding a lady in his arms.

 _Darkness mine, even silk could fray_

Think Gunther, he thought, think of something amusing. "Did you ever imagine you would have to deal with a donkey in the dark as well as in the daylight?"

Perhaps not, she had always been too good for him. Still, even when nobles sons had been placed before her, she had chosen _him_. Even now, as he held her carefully, she was wearing every single piece he gifted her, excluding the flowers, and dagger. _Him_ , she wanted him, out of everyone she had ever met. While the bleeding darkness dripped all about him, he allowed his insecurities to hinder him even at the most impossible moments.

He had been useless, but now he would prove himself worthy many times over. Heavy steps, as well as a heavy heart dared burden him. Over, over, he filled his mind with nothing but her, of her accomplishments, of her hopes, and the dreams she painted realities out of. "I thought you liked me," he softened. "and it turned out to be true."

There was no room for failure, he would make it, even if it meant using every part of his being.

 _Jane, it is time to give your light back._

Why was he not at the castle yet? Had he taken a wrong turn? That was another trouble with the darkness, you could not see spit. The girl in his arms was indifferent to it all; another annoyance. "You are always in my way Jane, you always have to be the best, the smartest. If not for you, " he shuddered. "I would not be out here, in the dark, fighting with my doubts. If you do not wake, I…I.."

His breath caught as long, drawn out blinks, and that familiar hand, trembling, reached to touch him. "Ja..Jane?"

With some effort, she wiped away the tear which escaped his notice. Her weakened smile met him, and never had he been more grateful to his God. "Thank you….Gunther." came her tired whisper.

This action seemed to use up all her strength, for her arm dropped down again, limp and unconscious. "Please, do not do this. Without you, I am… I am completely in the dark."

In the darkness, the only companion was the tiny sliver of the moon. There was hope, sorrow, and pain. In the moments of her brief consciousness, in the small movements of her fingers, in the slow, but steady breath, there was life. Was that not a hope?

 _The world was black and white, but you were in color_

 _I grew, and tried to reach you,_

 _Everytime a little harder, I could almost reach the sky_

 _Your heat, it would destroy me_

 _Yet, I burned, and blackened, until I was dust_

What were wolves, darkness, and light, what were they to the sun, to Jane? No more longing, he had proved himself. What was there to mourn if death was not her, if life refused to be snuffed out? While she lived, she was Jane. As long as she lived, he would be tested, pained, and suffer, but he would also taste happiness.

Was that not enough?

 _When will this suffering end?_

No more weakness, his strength, all that he had would be hers, his actions would speak louder than words. Careful steps, steady, moving toward home. There would be so much to do once he got there, but the sight of a tower and the sentry at the castle gates was only the second best thing he had seen that day.

* * *

The morning skies held much promise, the weather fine for many an activity. Happiness bubbled in his chest when his thoughts leaned towards the sun, a smile as exclusive as love itself waited.

 _Jane_.

The dull ache of loneliness threatened. It had been two days since Dragon saw her last, but their last meeting had been as sweet as ever. His shortlife was doing better; that made life a little easier. The whole frock business had been a mess, and his shortlife had handled it admirably. There was much to worry about, with all them shortlives hovering around her all the time, could not even get near her in fear of crushing a few of them.

 _Jane_.

Dragon had his doubts, figured he would have to charcoal the lot of them if given the chance, but she forbade it. Things had been a little boring, even with his cows, he still had too much free time. The sounds of horns and horses could be heard from the distance. "What are the shortlives up to today?"

The whistle of arrows made him flinch. A hunt, _again_. Typical, shortlives had nothing better to do then to chase each other in a game of violence and slaughter. Not his shortlife, she was probably blowing dragon smoke at Gunther. How did that happen again? Did it matter anymore?

As long as she was happy, he supposed it did not. Though, it was about bloody time. Figured they danced around the subject long enough, but Gunther? No wonder there was a stink about him all the time, Dragon was smelling the pheromones. He would be sure to remind the squire who was boss, but other then that there was no objections.

However, how was _Jane_ doing?

Hopefully the red of her cheeks was not contagious. _Jane_ , the light of life was doing better, and he hoped she would call for him soon.

 _Jane_.

He hoped she was happy.


End file.
